


Little Boy Lost

by VivArney



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney





	Little Boy Lost

Little Boy Lost  
by Vivian Arney

"Handle this child carefully," the child specialist  
said to the mother.   
"Remember you're dealing with a sensitive,  
high-strung, little stinker."  
L&N Magazine.

 

"Hold it! Police!" Peter Caine yelled as he and Mary  
Margaret Skalany burst through the door of the room.   
Dust and dirt swirled around the detectives as the  
door banged against the inside wall.

Donny Double D had given them a lead that Brian Scott,  
the twice convicted, small-time, drug dealer and all  
around thug was hiding out in this dilapidated and  
abandoned hotel in one of the worst parts of the  
city. They had chased him to this room on the tenth  
floor.

Dust and spiderwebs clung to Peter's sweating face.   
He raised his hand to brush it away and missed seeing  
the larger man lift a crate and hurl it in his  
direction. His eyes cleared just in time to see the  
disintegrating crate coming his way. He raised his  
arms to protect himself, but the crate's momentum  
drove him back into the hallway. He couldn't suppress  
a yelp of surprise as his legs collided with a chair  
against the corridor wall and he sat down hard. The  
chair, already rickety from countless years of abuse,  
collapsed under his weight and Peter, the crate and  
the chair all hit the floor with a loud crash.

Skalany fired in Scott's direction. The bullet buried  
itself into the wall just to the right of the man's  
head and he froze. She was worried about her partner  
\- he hadn't moved yet - but she wasn't about to look  
away from the criminal in front of her. She and Peter  
had worked too hard for too many hours to let Scott  
get away so easily.

Scott looked toward the window. They were too high up  
to risk a  
jump and the fire escape was behind the lady cop and  
her partner.

"Don't mess with me," Skalany warned as she tried to  
catch her breath. She aimed her gun directly at his  
crotch, "I'm in a very bad mood and I'm tired of  
playing with you."

Scott sighed. "Okay, okay. Jeez, don't go Bobbitt on  
me, will ya?"

Skalany grinned. "Come on, you know the drill. And  
don't try anything."

Scott frowned. "Mama always told me never to hit a  
woman. Guess it's a hard habit to break." He  
shrugged and turned toward the wall. "You sure got  
pretty eyes... for a cop."

"Shut up." She read him his rights and handcuffed  
him. "Hey, Peter, are you all right?" she asked,  
hearing a groan and rustling behind her. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. 

"Can you make it to the car?" she asked. He sounded  
a bit dazed to her, but she didn't want to take her  
eyes off her prisoner. "Yeah."

Skalany walked past with Scott. Once she got him  
safely in the car, she'd find somebody to come back up  
to help Peter if he needed it. She risked a glance in  
his direction as she passed him. There was a small  
cut on his cheek and his face was covered with dust,  
but he looked all right.

Back at the car, Skalany got Scott into the back seat  
then turned to look for Peter. She smiled to see him  
staggering behind her. She helped him into the  
passenger's seat and got behind the wheel. The  
precinct was only about twenty blocks away.

As she pulled up to the building, she called out for  
one of the uniformed officers to take Scott out of the  
car while she ran Peter off to the hospital.

"No," Peter protested. "Take me to my father's  
place."

"Okay," she agreed with a smile. Any excuse to spend  
time in the presence of the Shaolin priest.

[ [ [ [ [

Kwai Chang Caine looked up as Mary Margaret and his  
son entered the apartment. "Peter?"

"I'm okay, Pop," Peter insisted. "S'just a scratch."

"It is more than a "scratch," Peter," his father said  
quietly, a spark of concern on his normally placid  
face.

"He wouldn't let me take him to the hospital."

"No sense in taking a doctor away from somebody who's  
really hurt," Peter told her. "Pop can patch me up."

Caine nodded. "Come upstairs."

She helped Peter up the flight of narrow stairs and  
into Caine's private apartment.

It took the Shaolin priest only a few moments to  
examine and treat his son. The cut on Peter's cheek  
was, as he had insisted, only a scratch, a bit deep,  
but nothing time couldn't handle without his help, but  
the younger man had winced when his father touched his  
arm and, turning it, Caine found a nasty looking tear  
in his son's forearm and several good-sized splinters  
embedded deeply in it.

Caine's heart tightened at the sounds his son made as  
the splinters were withdrawn. "I am nearly finished,"  
he reassured him.

"I'm okay," he insisted, his voice tight with pain.

A short time later, a poultice of healing herbs  
covered the wound in Peter's arm and Caine had given  
him some herb tea that put him to sleep almost before  
he had finished drinking it.

Caine spread a blanket over his son and motioned for  
Skalany to follow him.

"He will sleep for an hour or more," Caine told her  
once they were in the hallway. 

"He was so dazed, are you sure he doesn't have a head  
injury?" she asked worriedly.

Caine shook his head. "The air was knocked from his  
lungs by the impact.

She nodded her understanding. "So, what'll we do til  
he wakes up?"

He smiled and extended his arm. "Will you have tea  
with me?"

[ [ [ [ [

Peter woke to find himself stretched out on his  
father's sleeping mat with only a vague recollection  
of how he'd gotten there. The sun hadn't gone down  
very long ago, judging by the light coming from the  
windows. It had been almost five when he and Skalany  
had broken in on Brian Scott so he hadn't been asleep  
all that long. He felt much better than he had when  
he and his partner had arrived. He laid back the  
blanket and sat up carefully, his arm protesting a bit  
when he tried to use the muscles. He heard a light  
step and saw a candle approaching

"Pop?" he asked quietly.

"I am here." His father came over to the mat and  
knelt beside him, his greying hair gleaming in the  
candlelight. "Are you hungry?"

Peter frowned. "Yeah. I shouldn't be, but I'm  
starving."

"Healing takes a great deal of energy," his father  
reminded him.

"Thanks," Peter said, gesturing to the bandage around  
his arm.

Caine smiled, reached forward and kissed his son's  
forehead. "Come, my son. Dinner is ready."

Peter stood and followed his father to the low table.   
"Even rice sounds good right now," he said with a  
chuckle. "Where's Skalany?" Peter asked, trying not  
to wolf down the rice and steamed vegetables.

"She said she was needed at the precinct to "file a  
report." She said she would return later."

"I shoulda gone with her," he protested, "I should be  
helping out with the paperwork."

"You were injured. She was concerned." 

"I'll have to get her some chocolates or something.   
Did you know, Scott didn't give her any trouble at  
all?"

Caine nodded. "Yes, she told me about this Brian  
Scott."

After they'd eaten, Peter helped Caine wash the dishes  
then prepared to leave.

"Thanks again, P-Dad. Hey, I've got a couple of days  
set aside for later this week. You wanna go fishing  
or something?"

Caine smiled. "Yes, I would. Our last attempt at  
fishing WAS interrupted."

[ [ [ [ [

Two days later, Peter sat at his desk trying to  
concentrate on paperwork when his phone rang. His  
face lit up as he recognized Kelly's voice

"You keep talking like that and I'll have to arrest  
you for making obscene phone calls," he warned  
playfully. "No, I've never heard of that club.   
What's the address? Yeah, I guess so. All right, see  
you there at... I'll make sure I'm out of here by six  
and meet you there at eight. Okay. Bye."

"I don't know what she just said, Peter, but it  
must've been one hell of a hot tip," Kermit teased as  
he leaned against the corner of the younger man's  
desk. "You're blushing."

Peter coughed. "Well, I haven't been available the  
last few days or so and she's getting..."

"Jealous? How could a woman get jealous of a  
profession that keeps you going around like a chicken  
with your head cut off half the time or bored to tears  
the rest of the time. Y'know I think I passed myself  
a coupla times last week? Hell of a time warp  
problem."

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I think I know the feeling," he  
agreed. He stuffed the envelope he'd used to write  
down the information about the club into his pocket.   
"I could really use some downtime... especially after  
the last few days."

"That Brian Scott case?"

Peter nodded. "AND the Hodges case, AND the Mulroney  
case AND the Peterson case..." He picked the coffee  
cup up off his desk, took a sip and made a face. The  
coffee in the precinct was bad enough under normal  
circumstances; cold it was much worse. He dropped the  
cup into the nearby trashcan. "So what are your plans  
for the evening, Kermit? Gonna tackle DOOM again?"

"Peter, that's kid stuff! I'm working with a program  
that makes DOOM look like Mario Brothers."

"Oh yeah, what's it called?"

Kermit smacked him playfully on the head with the pile  
of papers he'd been holding and grinned. "Police  
Detective. Here's the information you asked for on  
that murder case at the bowling alley."

"Very funny." He glared at the stack of papers.   
"Listen, is there anything in this that can't wait til  
morning. I've got a date with Kelly tonight and if  
I'm late again, she'll kill me and I'd have to leave  
all this wonderful paperwork for Skalany."

The ex-mercenary shrugged. "That's just some  
financial records. Old man Mulroney was in debt up to  
his gold-rimmed spectacles so, whoever did it, it  
wasn't for profit."

Peter's face brightened. "Kermit, I owe you a beer."

"You owe me a whole sixpack by now, but who's  
counting?" Kermit grinned, his dark eyes twinkling  
through his green glasses. "Where're you and the  
voluptuous Miss Kelly Blake off to tonight?"

Peter shrugged. "A club on Howard Avenue. Maybe a  
movie. I've been wanting to see that new Science  
Fiction movie."

"Aw, "The Simpsons Go to Mars," eh?"

"Please! No, that remake of War of the Worlds. And  
if I'm late that's gonna look like a minor skirmish."   
He stood, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair  
and bolted out the door.

"You're welcome," Kermit said, laughing as he started  
back toward his desk.

"Where's Peter off to in such a hurry?" Paul Blaisdell  
asked as he came out of his office.

"Hot date with Kelly."

"He better be on time. I'm up to my tieclasp in  
paperwork as it is." He smiled over at his old  
friend. "He could use a little R and R anyway. His  
handwriting on these reports is worse than usual."

"Oh yeah," Kermit agreed, stretching. "Sometimes,  
you've just got to get away from it all."

[ [ [ [ [

Peter stood in the shower, trying to relax. It had  
been a long day and he was looking forward to his date  
with Kelly. He sighed contentedly as the hot  
needle-sharp spray beat down on his back and  
shoulders, loosening the muscles taut with tension.

Kelly had been moody lately and he was sure he was the  
reason. All the break-ups bothered him, but their on  
again, off again relationship had already lasted  
almost a year and the arguments and break-ups weren't  
really the fault of either one of them. "More like  
both of us," he muttered as he reached for the soap.   
He grinned. "Course, making up's pretty nice."

He finished his shower, dried himself and padded naked  
to the bedroom to dress. He pulled on his underwear,  
then reached into the closet to pull out the blue  
sweater vest that Kelly had gotten him for Christmas  
only a few weeks ago. She had said the color made his  
eyes look sexy. He hauled a shirt and a pair of dress  
jeans off of their hanger and dug in his dresser for  
socks. He dressed quickly and when he stepped back  
into the bathroom to comb his hair and brush his  
teeth, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror  
and smiled. Guess she knew what she was talking  
about, his eyes did stand out more than usual. 

He went into the living room, stuffed his wallet into  
his pants' pocket and slipped into his jacket. He  
thought about grabbing his coat, it was a bit nippy  
outside, but decided against it. He would be going  
from his apartment, to his car, to the club, to the  
movie theater and back and he didn't want to have to  
haul a heavy coat around with him. He briefly  
considered leaving his gun at home as well then  
thought better of it and slipped it into the holster  
at his waist, pulling the bottom of the sweater vest  
down to cover it. It took him a moment to locate his  
keys - he'd laid them down on the bar while he sorted  
through his mail - but then, keys in hand, he flicked  
off the lights and left the apartment, humming  
contentedly.

[ [ [ [ [

The drive to the club - a place called "Duffy's  
Tavern" - wouldn't take long, but he'd planned to stop  
off at a place that specialized in chocolate covered  
fruit; blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, grapes,  
cherries, bananas and such. It wasn't cheap though.   
A fruit basket from "Chocolate Paradise" could run  
twenty to forty dollars or more depending on the  
fruits that went into it.

The girl behind the counter, a pretty blonde, flirted  
with him while she put his basket together; even got  
him to try one of their freshly baked chocolate chip  
cookies. He grinned. This was pretty good! He'd  
been wondering what to get Lo Si for his birthday and  
he decided that he would come back tomorrow on the way  
to the party to pick up a dozen or two of the warm  
cookies for the old man. Lo Si had a sweet tooth and  
he adored chocolate chip cookies, especially fresh  
ones with nuts. Peter was sure his friend would be  
thrilled with these. He'd laughed when he learned  
about Lo Si's fondness for chocolate chip cookies. It  
just didn't seem very Shaolin, but he knew how much  
his father liked the fresh fruit pies Annie Blaisdell  
sometimes made for him.

After he returned to the car, he drove over to the  
club, parked and went in. It took him a moment to  
find Kelly in the darkened room, but there she was at  
a table near the stage. He presented her with the  
chocolates and leaned down to kiss her before sitting  
across from her at the little round table.

"Oh, Peter, thank you!" she said in delight as she  
opened the brightly colored plastic to reveal the  
candy inside. She pulled out one of the strawberries  
and bit into it, rolling her eyes in bliss. She  
offered the box to him, but he made a face and shook  
his head.

"No, thanks. I got to sample one of their chocolate  
chip cookies. I'm chocolated out."

She shrugged. "More for me, then."

A waitress came over and took their drink orders, then  
vanished.

The pretty girl singing on stage had a good voice, but  
the volume made conversation difficult so they just  
sipped their drinks and held hands until she finished  
her performance.

After the singer left the stage, there were a few  
moments of silence before the next act, a hypnotist,  
came on stage.

"You wanted to see this?"

"Looked like fun."

Peter shook his head. "Hypnotism is a joke," he said,  
taking a sip of his beer. The room was fairly warm so  
he slipped out of his jacket, pulling the hem of the  
sweater down over his gun again to conceal it.

The man, a fellow named Richard Becker, started his  
act by explaining what hypnosis could and couldn't do  
and called for volunteers from the audience.

The next half hour was filled with people acting like  
chickens, barking like dogs and one guy who was  
convinced he was an operatic soprano. Kelly was so  
intent on the performance that she didn't notice that  
Peter had let go of her hand and that his face had  
lost all expression. His hazel eyes were staring off  
into emptiness. She did notice, however, when, after  
a sudden burst of loud applause and laughter, he  
suddenly stood up and, knocking over what remained of  
his beer, bolted out of the room.

She stood, suddenly furious, grabbing his jacket and  
the chocolates. She slammed a ten dollar bill down  
onto the table to pay for the drinks as she followed  
him. She made any number of rude comments about  
Peter's parentage, his upbringing, cops and men in  
particular as she stood outside the club, shivering in  
the cold trying to spot her suddenly invisible  
boyfriend.

[ [ [ [ [

His eyes opened wide with terror at the sudden burst  
of loud noise and he ran out of the noisy place with  
its strange smells and all that darkness.

Outside was almost as bad, but it wasn't as  
frightening. Cars went by him very fast and he shied  
away from them, colliding with a big man on a bike.   
"Be wary of strangers," his papa said. He wasn't sure  
what "wary" meant, but the man scared him. Where was  
Papa? He should be here!

"Hey, what's your problem, man?" the man on the bike  
yelled, shoving him hard against the building. 

His chin hit the wall and he started to cry as the  
scrape began to sting. "Gotta find Papa!" he wailed,  
running again.

[ [ [ [ [

Mike Wrigley watched the dark haired man in the blue  
sweater run off and shook his head. "Town's full of  
whackos lately," he mumbled as he pedaled off. Well,  
that guy - big damn crybaby - wasn't his problem.

[ [ [ [ [

Kelly, furious, threw Peter's jacket into the back  
seat of her car as she got in and roared off. She  
narrowly missed hitting the burly guy on the bicycle  
as she shot through a red light and drove back to her  
apartment.

[ [ [ [ [

At the apartment, Kwai Chang Caine suddenly gasped,  
dropped the delicate tea bowl he was holding and would  
have fallen if Lo Si hadn't pushed him into the room's  
only chair.

The old man frowned. He'd seen something like this  
happen a couple  
of times before. Each time, Peter had been seriously  
injured in some way. Once, he'd been shot and the  
other time he'd fallen four stories down to the tile  
floor below. Both times, he had nearly died and had  
almost taken Kwai Chang Caine with him.

"Something has happened to Peter?" he asked in  
concern.

Caine was dazed, as if the wind had been knocked out  
of him. "He is... lost."

"Unconscious?"

The younger Shaolin shook his head. He frowned,  
trying to sort out the confusing feelings he was  
receiving. "No, not unconscious... not dead... just  
lost... and very frightened." He looked up at his  
friend. "I have not felt such fear in Peter since he  
was a small child."

"Can you locate him?" Lo Si asked. He knew that Caine  
always seemed to know where his son was and, if he  
concentrated, he could find his son's essence and  
know, with a great deal of certainty, exactly where  
the young man was and what was happening to him.

Caine closed his eyes and tried to calm himself enough  
to focus on Peter, but there was nothing he could  
grasp with his mind.

Lo Si laid a wrinkled hand on Caine's shoulder. "We  
must try together."

The result was the same. They were both aware of the  
younger man's feelings of fear and confusion, but  
nothing more.

"You must rest now," Lo Si insisted, more than a  
little concerned for his friend's condition.

Caine shook his head. "No, Master, I must find my  
son... help him."

The old man sighed. "Very well, Kwai Chang Caine, we  
will search for your son."

[ [ [ [ [

As he walked along he felt a hard something on his  
belt and looked down in shock to see a shiny gun in a  
holster. He pulled it up to look at it. "Pretty," he  
said. He aimed it and pulled the trigger, yelling   
"Bang!" then giggled. He did it again and dropped the  
weapon in terror at the sudden loud boom it made. His  
hand hurt from the way the gun had jumped. "Not a  
toy!" he cried, running off, not noticing the  
shattered remains of the streetlight he'd aimed for.

[ [ [ [ [

Lo Si and Kwai Chang Caine went to Peter's apartment  
first. There was no recent sign of Peter. They  
checked with some of the people on the street who knew  
him, but no one had seen him that evening. They went  
over to the precinct, but were told he'd left there  
hours before. Their search was beginning to look  
hopeless. Caine, though, was insistent that -  
wherever Peter was - he was alive and that kept them  
going.

[ [ [ [ [

He was cold and it was getting darker. Where was his  
papa? He turned to see flames flickering from a  
barrel. Fire! At first, he was too scared to move,  
but fire was hot and he was so cold. The flames leapt  
merrily in the approaching darkness. He went toward  
the fire, the promise of heat and protection from the  
dark pulling him closer.

A figure near the barrel almost made him turn and run,  
but his shivering body won out. The other man's  
shabby clothing reminded him of his papa's clothes,  
but the man's smell repelled him. Papa NEVER smelled  
like that! Papa smelled of the flowers and other  
plants he tended.

"S'okay, pal," the dirty man said in a voice that  
sounded funny. "You don't look so good."

"Gotta find Papa," he said quietly. Gotta be big and  
not cry he thought as he edged toward the fire, but  
his face hurt where the man on the bike had shoved him  
into the building.

"Hey, whatta we got here?" a voice said from the  
darkness. Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him  
around. "You're too well dressed to be a bum."

"Leave him alone," the dirty man said, half rousing  
from his drunken stupor.

One of the teenagers laughed and shoved the old man  
into the nearest pile of trash as two others came  
toward him. 

"What ya got?" the voice said.

Rough hands searched him and pulled things from his  
pockets. He struggled, but the hands were too  
strong. A fist came from the darkness and he cried  
out as the wind was knocked out of him. Then, there  
were several feet kicking him and it hurt too much not  
to cry and a then, moment or so later, there was  
nothing but blackness and suddenly it didn't hurt  
anymore.

[ [ [ [ [

Lo Si's old bones shook as he felt the pain that  
suddenly radiated from Kwai Chang Caine's chi. 

"No!" Caine cried.

"Kwai Chang Caine, what has happened?"

Tears welled in the younger man's dark eyes as he  
dropped to the steps to the library in defeat. "I had  
almost located him, but there was suddenly great pain  
and now... nothing at all." He looked up at the old  
man a terrible expression on his normally placid  
face. "It is like nothing I have ever felt before.   
Even when I thought him dead, there was something..."

Lo Si laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to  
comfort him, knowing there was nothing more he could  
do. "Perhaps, if we go to Blaisdell, he will know?"

Caine's face brightened slightly. "He was not at the  
precinct. He will be at home."

"Then we shall go there."

[ [ [ [ [

Paul Blaisdell knew something was terribly wrong the  
moment he saw the look on Caine's face. "What's  
happened?" he asked, ushering them in out of the cold.

Caine tried to explain, but it was always difficult to  
explain Shaolin mysteries to those not trained in the  
disciplines.

"Well, if you can't find him, I'm not sure how much I  
can do."

"Could we not find out what his plans were for the  
evening?"

"That I can do. He had a date with Kelly Blake  
tonight. Hold on, let me make a few calls."

Caine bowed and watched Peter's foster father walk  
into his den. 

Annie Blaisdell came over to him and put her arms  
around him. "We'll find him, Caine," she whispered as  
his strong arms tightened around her comforting her  
even as she was trying to comfort him. She'd never  
known Caine to be this upset before and it was all she  
could do to keep control of her own emotions. If  
Caine was certain something had happened to his son -  
their son - then she knew it was no false alarm.   
Peter was hurt somewhere and needed them.

Paul returned a few moments later. "Kelly Blake says  
he left her in the middle of their date... she's  
furious. It took me a few minutes to calm her down,  
but she said they had gone to a club on the south side  
of town. He walked out in the middle of a hypnosis  
act."

Caine's eyes widened. "Did she say what happened in  
this "act?"

"No, just that he got up and walked out."

The Shaolin priests' eyes locked on each other.

"Kwai Chang Caine, that would explain the "wrongness"  
you feel," Lo Si agreed. "This is very bad."

"Look, you two are exhausted," Paul said. "it's  
late. We can put you up in the guest room. Let me  
call Kermit and we'll see if we can pick up his trail  
in the morning."

Caine shook his head. "No, Paul, it is too cold...  
Peter "felt" cold... I cannot feel him now. We must  
find him tonight."

Blaisdell nodded. "You're right, of course. He's on  
foot with no protection. He can't get very far. I'll  
get some uniforms to give us a hand."

The men piled into Paul's car and started off toward  
the south part of town. They reached the club and  
went in to have a word with the hypnotist.

Paul showed Richard Becker a picture of Peter.

"Yeah, I remember him. He was sitting up front with a  
very lovely girl."

"Do you remember seeing him leave?" Paul asked.

The man thought. "Yeah, I thought it was kind of  
strange at the time. People usually don't walk out on  
me."

"Can you remember what happened in your "act" just  
before he left?" Paul asked.

Becker concentrated. "Yeah, I had just put a man  
under and told him to go back to his childhood."

Caine swallowed. "How far back did you tell him to  
go?"

The man shrugged. "Three or four years old. The  
audience gets a kick out of seeing a grown man act  
like a child."

"Well, we're beginning to think you may have put a  
member of the audience - our son, Peter - under by  
mistake and he left before you could bring him out of  
it," Paul told Becker.

Becker shook his head. "Can't happen. I didn't call  
him onto the stage."

"Calling him up onto the stage would not be  
necessary. Some people are very susceptible to  
hypnosis," Caine informed the man. "This "act" of  
yours is very dangerous. You should stop."

Becker shrugged. "It's a living."

"Paul, we must find Peter immediately." The concern  
in Caine's voice was all the encouragement Blaisdell  
needed.

They went back outside to find Kermit and several  
uniformed police officers waiting for them.

"All right, everybody, spread out. We're looking for  
Peter Caine. If you find him DO NOT approach him. We  
believe he's been hypnotized and thinks he's only  
three or four years old. He's alone in the dark and  
very frightened. We DO NOT want to frighten him any  
further. Call me and we will come to him. Is that  
understood?"

The men nodded and began moving around the area.

[ [ [ [ [

He opened his eyes to darkness and cried out for his  
papa. Papa had always been there when he had a bad  
dream. Why wasn't he here now? Tears began to run  
down his cheeks. His sides hurt. It hurt bad and  
moving made things worse. He felt something brush  
against his cheek then a roughness as something licked  
at his tears. He heard a gentle purring sound. A  
kitty! He reached up to touch the soft fur and felt  
the small body curl up on his shoulder.

"It's okay, pal," a soft voice said from the  
darkness. A match flared to brightness and a candle  
glowed across the room. It was the dirty man. "Tilly  
and me'll take care of you. Those damned kids! Got  
no respect for their elders anymore."

"Hurts," he groaned, rubbing his ribcage and stomach.

"Yeah, I 'spect it does. That one kid... I thought he  
was gonna kick yer guts to China."

He perked up a little, but moving hurt. "Papa's from  
China!"

The old man laughed. "Sure couldn't tell it by  
lookin' at ya. What's your papa's name, son?"

He hesitated. This man had been nice to him, but he  
was still a stranger. "My name's Tanker," the man  
said. "Don't need to tell my your name 'less you want  
to."

He shivered. "I'm cold." He felt gentle hands pull  
something up around his shoulders. 

"Go to sleep now, pal."

[ [ [ [ [

Dawn was breaking when they found an old barrel that  
had recently held a fire. Caine gasped, picking up  
Peter's holster. "He was here. There was a...  
fight."

"Guess Peter didn't win," Kermit muttered. 

Caine quietly reminded the ex-mercenary that Peter's  
mind was that of a child. "He did not begin Kung Fu  
studies until he was five years old."

They found the remains of Peter's wallet and badge in  
the ashes of the fire.

"Peter, where are you?" Paul mumbled.

[ [ [ [ [

When he woke again, it was daytime. The sun was out  
and he could feel the warmth spreading through him.   
He still hurt and now he had to go potty, too. He  
looked around, but the dirty man was gone and so was  
his kitty. He stood up and tried to keep from crying  
as the movement brought fresh pain. 

He wandered out onto a playground. There was nobody  
there. He sat down on a swing and began spinning  
himself around slowly. A short time later, he watched  
as several mothers brought their children to the  
playground, but when he tried to get near them to ask  
them to play, one of the mothers screamed and came  
running over with an umbrella and hit him hard in the  
side. He ran away, crying in pain and confusion. "I  
just wanted to play!" he cried.

[ [ [ [ [

At the precinct, people were starting to straggle in.   
No one had found anything more after they'd found  
Peter's holster, wallet and badge and Paul had,  
reluctantly called off the search. Caine and Lo Si  
had continued to look around, but even they were  
beginning to lose hope.

"Call for you, Chief!" Blake yelled. "It's that buddy  
of yours over at the 63rd. Line two."

Frank Strenlich picked up the receiver. "Hey, Rocky.   
How's it going?"

"Not bad, buddy, not bad at all."

"That's good."

"I hear some of your boys were over here on my turf  
last night."

"Yeah, we've got a man missing. Peter Caine. He was  
last seen at Duffy's."

"Got a description? I can put a coupla guys on it for  
you."

"Tall, dark hair, hazel eyes. I'll fax you over a  
picture. Great. What's the fax number there?"   
Strenlich took the picture they'd been showing around  
near the club and faxed it over to the other precinct.

[ [ [ [ [

The candy in the bright wrappers drew him like a moth  
to a flame. He was hungry. And there were toys!! He  
stepped into the store and picked up the candy. and  
started to walk away with it and one of the toy cars  
on the shelf beside it. 

The man's shout startled him and he dropped the car  
and ran... straight into the arms of a big man in a  
blue uniform. Police! But the police were supposed  
to help you. Papa had said so.

"Can you help me find my papa?" he asked.

"What are you on, pal?" the policeman growled and  
pushed him onto the ground.

"I gotta find Papa!" he wailed.

The officer cuffed the man who was obviously high as a  
kite and hauled him kicking and screaming to the  
police car. The guy almost got away once, launching a  
pretty respectable kick at the officer's head, but a  
whack in the ribs with the nightstick settled him down  
real quick. "Jeez, what a wimp!" the officer said,  
seeing the terrified look on the guy's face and the  
tears streaming down his cheeks as he pulled away from  
the curb. "Can't wait for the blood test on this  
guy."

[ [ [ [ [

Sometime later, at the precinct, the phone rang.   
Kermit answered it and let out a whoop that had  
everybody reaching for their guns. "WE GOT HIM!!!!"

Blaisdell's tired face burst into a relieved smile.   
"Where is he?"

"Over at the 63rd. Would you believe Peter got  
busted for shoplifting?"

"Let's go get him."

"Where's Caine?" Kermit asked.

"Back at my place," Blaisdell replied. "I finally  
convinced him to "comfort" Annie."

Kermit nodded and the two of them raced to Blaisdell's  
car.

[ [ [ [ [

They were greeted at the 63rd Precinct by a man who  
held Paul's position. "Captain Blaisdell, Herb  
Goodman. It's good to finally meet you!"

The men shook hands.

"That story Frank told me was incredible."

"It's true," Paul assured him. "We're not going to  
have any trouble taking him home, are we?"

The man shook his head. "No, he's not responsible for  
anything he does right now.

"Where is he?"

"We had to put him in solitary. The other prisoners  
were scaring him to death."

"I'll bet," Kermit agreed. "They scare me plenty and  
I AM responsible for my actions."

Goodman lead them to the cells and opened the door to  
Peter's cell.

Blaisdell walked in. "I don't see him," he said in  
confusion.

Kermit pointed. "I do. Look, under the bed."

Blaisdell crouched. "Peter, can you hear me?" he  
asked, his voice soft and reassuring. "You can come  
out now. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Only sounds of sniffling came from beneath the bed.

"It's Paul. Do you remember me?"

"Go 'way!"

"I want to help you, Peter, but I can't do that until  
you come out."

"I want my papa!"

Paul swallowed. It was all he could do to keep  
himself from crying. Hearing Peter like this  
frightened him more than he wanted to admit. "Peter,  
please come out. I can take you to your father."

"Not s'pose to talk to strangers." He could hear the  
tears in the younger man's voice.

"I'm not a stranger, Peter. Don't you remember me?   
I'm your friend."

Kermit's face lit up and he ducked silently out of the  
room. He returned a moment later carrying a large  
blue and purple teddy bear, one of the "Crisis Bears"  
kept at the precinct for helping traumatized children  
calm down. He laid down on the floor and peered under  
the bed. Seeing Peter's tear-stained face shook him  
more than anything had in a long time. "Hi, Peter.   
I'm Kermit. Like Kermit the Frog."

Peter only looked confused and pushed himself further  
under the bed.

"Okay, why is it that the one time I WANT to use that  
joke, it doesn't work?" he muttered. "Hey, look what  
I've got here." 

A slight smile broke across the other man's face at  
the sight of the teddy bear. "Is that for me?"

"If you come out from under the bed and let us talk to  
you."

"Will you take me to my papa?"

"Sure, but you've got to come out."

There was a series of soft sniffles from under the cot  
then the sound of a body sliding against the cell  
floor and slowly Peter Caine appeared. There was a  
pretty nasty scrape on his chin and dried blood down  
his left cheek. He looked awful.

"Oh, my God," Blaisdell whispered, kneeling beside his  
foster son. He was dirty and disheveled and he stank  
of garbage and God knew what else. The blue sweater  
he'd been so proud of the night before was ripped down  
the front and unraveling. Paul opened the tattered  
shirt and both he and Kermit were unable to suppress a  
gasp as they looked down at Peter's badly bruised  
chest and stomach. It seemed as if the only clean  
part of him was the narrow trails his tears had made  
down his cheeks. "He's been beaten up pretty badly,  
Kermit," Paul whispered. "No wonder he's so  
terrified."

"Wait til I get my hands on the jerks who did this."

"We need to take him to the hospital, but I'm afraid  
it would just make things worse."

"Caine can probably patch him up enough to get him  
back to normal then we can take him to the hospital  
later, if he feels it's necessary."

"Sounds like a good plan." Blaisdell turned back to  
his foster son. "Can you sit up, Peter?"

Peter tried, but it took too much out of him after the  
beating the teenagers had given him the night before  
and the whack the cop had given him when he was  
arrested. He lay on the floor, crying. "It hurts,"  
he told them between racking sobs.

Paul gathered him into his arms and the two of them  
helped him to his feet. "I know it hurts, Peter.   
Everything's going to be okay. We'll take you home  
and you'll be just fine."

Kermit put the bear in Peter's arms and he hugged it  
to him in near desperation.

It took them nearly an hour to get back to Paul  
Blaisdell's house during the lunch hour rush. Kermit  
sat in the back seat with Peter, trying to keep him  
calm and as still as possible.

Caine met them at the curb. The look on his face  
worried Paul as much as Peter's had.

"Caine," Paul said as he got out. "We've got to take  
our time moving him. He's been badly beaten. Several  
broken ribs, some terrible bruises and he's scared to  
death." He shook his head. "I don't know how he  
survived the night, but..."

Peter's eyes lit up the moment he spotted his father.   
"PAPA!"

Caine forced himself to smile. The pain radiating  
from his son's body was almost enough to make his legs  
buckle under him. "Yes, Peter. Move slowly. Do not  
hurt yourself further.

"Paul's not a stranger is he, Papa?" Peter asked. "It  
was okay to go with him?" He was still holding the  
teddy bear for all he was worth.

"Yes, Peter. Paul is a good man. It was good to go  
with him," Caine assured his son as the three of them  
helped the injured man to the house.

"Kermit's funny."

"He too is a good man."

They laid Peter down on the bed he'd slept in as a  
teenager and Caine started to go into the other room  
for his pouch and Lo Si, but a cry from Peter made him  
freeze in his tracks. 

"No, don't go away!" he wailed.

Caine reached over and held his son's hand. "It is  
all right, Peter. I am here. I will not leave you.   
Try to rest."

"What do you need, Caine?" Kermit offered. Peter was  
just too unstable to upset him further. 

"My pouch and Lo Si. Could you also ask Annie to boil  
some water, please? I will also need towels, some  
cloth for poultices and... some alcohol."

Kermit nodded and left the room without a sound.

Paul sat on the chair beside the bed. "He should be  
in a hospital, Caine, but we didn't think he was up to  
it."

"He is not."

Kermit returned with Caine's pouch, the towels and a  
clean sheet Annie had given him to tear up for Caine's  
use. and with Lo Si trailing behind him. "Here you  
go." He set the requested items where Caine could  
reach them easily and leaned back against Peter's old  
dresser - out of the way but available.

Caine opened the pouch and started pulling various  
herbs from it. He tried to focus on his work despite  
his own feelings of anger and sorrow - anger at  
whoever had done this terrible thing to his son and  
sorrow that he hadn't been able to prevent it.

"Anything I can do?" Paul asked.

"Hold his hand and try to comfort him. He is too  
frightened... even now. I cannot hypnotize him in  
this state."

Paul sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up  
Peter's limp hand.

"I thought you could use hypnosis to control pain,"  
Kermit asked.

Lo Si nodded. "Only if the subject is willing. Peter  
is as a child and it is sometimes very difficult to  
hypnotize children. Especially if they are in pain as  
Peter is."

Annie brought in the tea kettle with the boiling  
water. "How is he?"

"He will be fine, Annie,... given time," Caine  
reassured her in a quiet voice.

"His body is strong," Lo Si added. He took the kettle  
from her and guided her to the chair beside the bed.

Paul was glad his wife couldn't see the awful bruises  
that covered their foster son's body. He'd seen death  
and even torture during his years in the Falcon's  
Wing, but nothing had frightened him more than seeing  
Peter the way he had today - the barriers that were so  
much a part of Peter - they were what had protected  
him during his time at the orphanage - were completely  
down. He'd never seen him completely exposed before.

Annie Blaisdell knew her husband and Caine were trying  
their best to convince her that Peter's injuries were  
minor, but she'd heard the sounds Peter had made as  
his fathers and Kermit helped him up the stairs. She  
sat down and Paul put an arm around her.

"He's gonna be all right, Annie," Paul said softly not  
sure whether he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Annie laid her head on Paul's chest and listened to  
his heartbeat, loving him for what he'd tried to do.   
It was obvious Peter had been badly hurt, but she had  
confidence in Caine's abilities. She felt Paul's arm  
around her, his strength enveloping her in strength  
and safety.

Caine poured some of the water into a cup and dropped  
some herbs into it then set is aside to cool for a few  
moments. He spent those moments talking quietly to  
his son, keeping his son calm so that when Peter drank  
the tea he had just prepared, he would drop off to  
sleep, giving him a chance to do what he could to  
clean the cuts and scrapes that covered his son's body  
and relieve the pain so he could concentrate when  
Caine hypnotized him again and brought him back into  
adulthood.

"Peter, will you drink this for me?"

The younger man nodded and Paul helped him sit up  
enough to sip at the still warm tea.

Moments later, he was asleep.

"You know I always wondered what he was like as a  
small child," Annie admitted with a smile.

"Very precocious and... stubborn," Caine said as he  
watched the pain drain from his son's face. 

Annie grinned. "Sounds like our Peter to me."

Caine couldn't suppress his own smile of remembrance.   
"Yes, it does."

Paul and Kermit watched in silence as Caine's fingers  
moved deftly over Peter's sleeping form. His touch -  
light as a feather at times - was sure and confident  
despite the whirling emotions that filled him.

As careful as he was with the damp cloth or applying  
various pastes and crushed powders to Peter's wounds,  
the sleeping younger man would occasionally groan or  
grit his teeth against the pain. Caine would reach  
over and lay a hand on his son's forehead. Peter  
would drift deeper into sleep and Caine would  
continue.

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do to help?"  
Kermit asked Lo Si quietly.

"Kwai Chang Caine is attempting to accelerate the  
natural healing abilities of Peter's body," the old  
man explained softly. "It is something he must do  
alone. If anyone disturbs the flow, the healing may  
be delayed."

Kermit shrugged. He had great respect for Caine's  
beliefs and even if he didn't understand exactly what  
was going on, he'd seen this man perform some amazing  
feats. If it would help Peter, he was all for it.

Caine finally let out a tired sigh and looked up at  
them. "I can do no more," he told them wearily. His  
son slept peacefully at last.

Lo Si smiled. "You must rest, as well, my friend."

"Are you not tired as well, Master?"

Lo Si shrugged. "One of us must stay with him," he  
said quietly. "Peter will sleep for many hours."

"He's right, Caine, the rest of us can take turns  
staying with him," Paul offered. "You're dead on your  
feet."

Caine hesitated.

Kermit grinned. "Lo Si, is there any more of that  
sleeping potion left?"

Caine raised his hands in surrender at the thinly  
veiled threat. "Very well, I will "bow to the  
majority."

"We promise to wake you if Peter needs anything,"  
Annie promised.

He smiled at the blind woman and cupped her cheek.   
"That will not be necessary, Annie. I will know."

Annie and Paul hustled Peter's father out of the  
room. And Caine reluctantly laid down on the narrow  
bed and tried to will himself to sleep, but his  
thoughts kept returning, understandably, to his son.   
Finally, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

[ [ [ [ [

Peter felt much better when he woke some hours later.   
He felt stiff, but at least his tummy didn't hurt  
anymore. He looked up to see his papa sitting beside  
him in a chair. "Hi, Papa," he said groggily.

Caine smiled. "How do you feel?"

"Doesn't hurt so bad now."

Caine held up a large quartz ball with many facets.   
He twirled it by a string threaded through a hole in  
the top. He had borrowed it, with Paul's permission,  
from the chandelier in the hallway. "Do you see what  
I have here?"

Peter nodded, his eyes wide with fascination at the  
ball that sparkled in the sunlight coming through the  
window. "Pretty!" he sighed.

"Yes, isn't it? See how it glitters? See how it  
catches the light and makes rainbows? Watch the ball  
and listen to me..."

With the obedience of a young child, Peter kept his  
eyes on the beautiful thing in his father's hands and  
slowly drifted off listening to the soft tones of his  
father's quiet voice.

"Now, when I snap my fingers, Peter, you will wake  
up. You will no longer be a child, but an adult."   
Caine briefly considered adding a post-hypnotic  
suggestion to make his son stop calling him "Pop,"  
then smiled fondly at his sleeping son and snapped his  
fingers.

He laid a hand on his son's shoulder, one of the few  
places that WASN'T bruised. "Peter, how do you feel?"

"Um, kinda sleepy. Pop? Where am I?"

"You are in your old bedroom... at the Blaisdell's.   
How do you feel?"

"Like a damned mummy. What the hell happened?"

"You do not remember?"

Peter shook his head, winced at the slight twinge from  
his ribs and frowned, trying to remember. "No, I  
don't remember. What's been going on?" Peter looked  
confused. He frowned down at the teddy bear and  
pushed it away. "I had the weirdest dream. I was  
little, maybe three or four, and I was looking all  
over for you but I couldn't find you." He winced at  
the movement. "Ow, Somebody worked me over pretty  
good." 

Kermit's head appeared around the door jamb. "That  
was no dream, Peter."

"You mean..."

"You shot up a streetlight, got beaten up by a group  
of thugs, then got busted for shoplifting," Paul told  
him, entering the room with Annie.

"And there's a woman on McMillan Street who's  
convinced you're some kind of pervert," Kermit  
finished.

Caine grinned. "You have been a very naughty, little  
boy, my son."

Peter raised a hand to his forehead. "Man, I am NEVER  
going to live this down, am I?" 

"You must hurry and get well, Peter. Annie has made  
some chocolate chip cookies and if you lay about too  
long, I will just have to eat them all myself."

Kermit grinned and held out a small round button like  
those given out by politicians after votes. "Got a  
little something for you."

Peter took it, read the print and groaned.

"What's it say?" Annie asked.

"It is never too late to have a happy childhood," Lo  
Si said, laughing.

Sore ribs or not, Peter couldn't keep from laughing.


End file.
